


a little bit of you and me

by banshee_in_the_dark



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Friendship, Moving In Together, Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1926615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banshee_in_the_dark/pseuds/banshee_in_the_dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the bellarke writers network: Clarke has to move into Bellamy's tent for reasons. But they aren't together, she has her 'bed' on one side and he has his 'bed' on the other. Cue awkward situations, deep conversations at night, and maybe one starts crawling into the other's bed at some point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little bit of you and me

**Author's Note:**

> I basically developed this on the bus on my way from school and wrote it at 1 am, so I apologize for any mistakes.

When a storm damages Clarke’s tent beyond reparation it’s easy for to find new sleeping arrangements for her. Bellamy’s tent is the biggest on camp and he’s the only one not currently sharing it so why should she impose on someone else when he has all that room available? It’s efficient resource management, really. He agrees, naturally, as he generally tends to defer to her in such matters, also making the point that, as they usually have night meetings that go on after everyone’s regular bedtime, sharing the same tent would be convenient.

So she moves in.

It’s not – She wouldn’t say there aren’t any issues to work out at first because being in such close quarters and basically sharing the same living space with another person comes with its challenges, but they get along fairly well. He informs her the morning after their first night together that she snores something awful, but there’s not much she can do about that except apologize (grudgingly, after denying it categorically). Bellamy, on the other hand, has the foul habit of farting, mostly when he’s asleep, but sometimes when he’s lounging on the bed reading and re-reading one of the books they recovered from the bunker and he’s not paying attention to his bodily functions.

(Her pallet is near the opening flap and air flows freely through there, so that’s fortunate.)

To his credit, he does try to curb his disgusting habit and manages to do so after much yelling from her part and a great deal of apologizing from him.

The nightmares are – well, not a problem per se, but she stops counting the times she wakes up in the middle of the night to Bellamy thrashing on his bed and the endless, frantic pleas to Jaha to let his mother live.

( _“I’m sorry I shot you. I’m sorry I killed all those people. Please let her go. Mom._ Mom _. Please. I’m_ sorry _.”_ )

And at first she doesn’t say anything, just lays there patiently with her stomach in knots until  the nightmares run their course or Bellamy screams himself awake, in which case she feigns sleep and pretends she doesn’t notice his fitful breathing and his attempts to calm himself and get back to sleep. She _does_ ask him in the morning if he’s alright and if he needs her – err – anything from her, because he looks more haggard and exhausted than usual after those nights.

Until one night she wakes up with tears in her eyes and a scream clawing up her throat, with Bellamy’s face looming over her, twisted in a worried frown, his hand a soothing weight on her shoulder.

She tells him about her dad that night.

(He tells her about his mom two nights later when she shakes him awake before the worst of the nightmare takes place.)

Life goes on without any major disaster around camp, and for that Clarke is grateful. Life on the ground is challenging enough, but they work out a system and before winter strikes in full strength they have pretty much stocked up on enough food and medicinal supplies to last them through the coming months, and the building of what they fondly call the mess hall is well underway, which will hopefully house half of their people. Clarke and Bellamy’s sleeping arrangement feels a little more permanent than temporary (they have a table and two chairs now on the tent, which Bellamy made with his own hands, and a brazier to keep the inside warm. Sometimes they have dinner together, just the two of them) but it works, so why bother making any changes?

He’s ever mindful of announcing himself before entering, in case she’s changing or washing, and waiting for her to give him the okay to come inside. At night, after they review the daily report (which is just a fancy way of saying they sit down passing a flask of moonshine talking about what they did that day), Bellamy leaves the tent for precisely ten minutes giving her ample time to undress and get beneath her blankets. She offers him the same courtesy but he scoffs, saying it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, and yes, he did spend quite some time shirtless right after they landed when the weather permitted it so she is, in fact, acquainted with his bare torso, but there’s something far more intimate about watching him disrobing in private, so Clarke turns her back on him, shuts her eyes and ignores the way butterflies cascade in her stomach and her heart hammers on her ribcage.

(One time it took her longer than usual to get ready for bed so he walked in while she was standing by the brazier warming her hands, clad only in her threadbare undershirt and panties. It was no big deal. He apologized for walking in without announcing himself, she apologized for running late.)

(It took both of them a long time to fall asleep that night.)

Clarke makes sure there’s always enough warm water left for him after her ‘bath’ and when she does her laundry by the stream she doesn’t mind to throw in his stuff too. Bellamy takes care of mending every rip in their clothes (“My mother was a seamstress Clarke, I know this stuff.”) and he replenishes the hot coals for the brazier every night. She keeps an aloe ointment handy to treat the small burns he occasionally gets.

He hunts down a bear-like creature when he goes up the mountain with Jasper and Miller once, so that’s how they get a new rug to cover the dirt floor of the tent. It’s beautiful, the fur dark like the midnight sky and so soft Clarke insists their boots come off by the entrance of the tent so as not to track mud on it. Clarke’s precious pencils and crayons from the bunker find a permanent place inside an old can on the corner of their table, right next to the book about Greek mythology Bellamy doesn’t get tired of reading, the assortment of vials with powerful venoms and antidotes they confiscated from Lincoln when they captured him and that Clarke doesn’t trust out of her sight, and the gun Bellamy brought from the Ark, now useless without any bullet left and wrapped in a piece of leather.

By the time of the first snowfall the mess hall is already operational, with the smoke room and earth oven at one end, providing heat to the long room, and the side on the drop ship on the other.  The rock and wood structure is completely windowless, designed to house two dozens of people and protect them from the harsh weather conditions during the winter. There isn’t room for everyone, obviously, so the rest take residence in the first level of the drop ship. The ones who value their privacy above an actual roof over their heads, such as it’s the case with couples, are allowed to brave the winter in their tents.

Clarke and Bellamy stay in their tent.

But – Okay, it’s just as a precaution. The hatch of drop ship is closed during the night and so is the door of the mess hall, so _someone_ has to keep an eye on the people outside. If anything were to happen, they need to be at the ready. So really, it’s not that they want to stay in the tent, they _have_ to.

And yes, the added insulation of a web of dry leaves and twigs layered under a second layer of parachute fabric from the unused tents does help to keep the chill out, but it’s still pretty goddamn cold at night, so it’s only logical that Clarke and Bellamy conclude that combining their respective furs and blankets will be far more beneficial to keep them warm through the long winter nights, and so sharing the same bed is the only reasonable alternative.

And it’s not cuddling when you’re just trying to stay warm and, consequently, alive.

Or at least that’s what Clarke tells herself as she buries her nose on Bellamy’s neck, curled up against his side and with both feet sandwiched between his calves.

(Bellamy’s hand smoothing up and down her back and his lips hot and whispering against her forehead, those are – well she doesn’t have a plausible excuse for those yet, but she’ll come up with one in the morning.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Personally, domestic bellarke makes me smile, but you tell me ;D


End file.
